To Gamble with Fate
by Phantom-Of-The-Keurig
Summary: It was not the first time Erik found himself at the end of a pistol. He had faced off against a plethora of firearms in his time. And yet, he found himself petrified for the first time as the gun inched nearer to his face. It had nothing to do with his own well being of course. His fear rested entirely with the woman and child cowering behind him.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** A love never dies AU with some Kay elements mixed in, also please see the ending of the story for more author's notes!_

* * *

Life had never been particularly kind to Erik. He had accepted this years ago. It was one of the first lessons he learned as a child. The many marks on his body mapped out a twisted story of a lifetime of violence. Even his mind was scarred, with endless memories of fear and pain haunting him relentlessly. Sometimes, he morbidly wondered if one were to examine his brain, would it be as damaged as the monstrous half of his face?

He thought he knew all there was to know about agony- as he had experienced every form of it in one way or another. The moment the gunshot pierced his ears and the screams began, he knew he was wrong. He had never been _so_ wrong before.

The world started to spin. A sharp whistle rang in his ears. The noise deafened all other sound around him, except for a grief-stricken wail that tore at his heart. He was on his knees in a second, reaching out to cradle the small body with shaking hands. The realization struck him that the awful cries he heard were his own, and the ringing in his ears began to fade.

Despite the absence of the overwhelming trill in his ear, he still struggled to take in the disconcerted sights and sounds that surrounded him. He knew that Christine was beside him, and that her own hands were over her mouth as she wept. He heard shouts from somewhere near them, but he didn't care to pay attention to whatever they said. His focus was strictly on the small boy that lay bleeding on the dock.

His son. Gustave was _his_ son. Blood began to sweep between Erik's fingers. He pressed down more firmly on the boy's side and winced as the pressure caused the boy to whimper. He watched helplessly as Gustave's face twisted into a grimace.

His son was dying, bleeding to death in his father's arms.

The shouts grew closer, and soon hands began to try and pry the boy away. Erik swatted them back with a growl. His mind became sharper with the sudden need to do _something_. He stood and hoisted the small body up into his arms. Gustave's pitiful yelp made him feel utterly wretched, as he wanted to be as gentle as possible, but the boy was growing paler by the second. He was running out of time.

Erik grit his teeth and pushed forward as Madame Giry and the bewildered man she returned with ushered them along. Vaguely, he knew where they were leading him, but he was too scatterbrained to travel the familiar road alone. He knew the young, gangly man that rushed ahead of them, but in that moment, he could not for the life of him remember the man's name. He didn't stop to ponder upon it, he didn't even check to see if Christine followed behind him. He counted the few remaining blocks until the familiar row of modest townhouses appeared.

He wasted no time sprinting to the home on the very end and banging his fist against the door. The second the door began to swing open, he charged inside. He handed the child off to the waiting arms of Nadir Khan.

The Persian man was no stranger to Erik bursting into his home in the dead of night, often for medical attention. He had never brought a child before, and Erik could see the utter horror on the man's face. The shock disappeared as quickly as it came, and Nadir began barking orders.

The home erupted into a chaotic effort as people flew about. Erik fetched a brown medical bag from the study upstairs as Nadir instructed the lanky man to gather water and rags. _Darius_ , he suddenly remembered. The young man's name was Darius. How could he have forgotten such a familiar name?

The shock he had fought to keep at bay broke through, and he froze. The ringing was back. He felt disconnected from his body and could only watch as Nadir and his assistant carried the boy away. He stood at the far end of the hallway as the pair disappeared into a room with a limp Gustave.

The sound of the door locking spurred him forward.

No matter how much he pleaded or threatened, they refused to let Erik inside. With one final strike to the door, he turned to rest against it. He knew they were right of course, he was far too shaken to be of any help. And he was sure screaming obscenities and beating on the door did nothing but hinder their efforts.

Ashamed, Erik looked down at his clothing. His coat was missing, and he faintly recalled yanking it off on the dock to press to Gustave's side. He wondered if it was still sitting on the dock, bloodied and waiting for some poor soul to discover. Perhaps the person would alert the police.

He pushed the thought away. His shirt was stained, and the sight made him ill. That was his son's blood clinging to the fabric. His breathing grew deeper as he brought his trembling hands closer to his face. They were stained too.

Down the hall, he heard crying. He remembered Christine, as he had selfishly thought only of his own grief since leaving the dock.

He found her in the sitting room. Her hands covered her face, and her shoulders heaved with each broken sob. He felt callous for neglecting to console her, as she had witnessed the entire thing. And while he had come to form a place in his heart for the boy, he knew his pain was incomparable to the despair Christine felt.

Erik crossed the room and brought her into his embrace. He was grateful she did not reject his arms, as he too longed for a sense of comfort. They stood like that, locked together in the center of the room, as the minutes ticked on. He didn't offer any false words of assurance, as he couldn't bring himself to lie when he truly did not know what Gustave's fate would be. He did not know if the boy would survive the night. He did not know if Christine would still have a son come morning.

His heart dropped at the thought.

* * *

He didn't protest when Nadir came to collect Christine. Truthfully, he was terrified of what waited in the room Nadir brought Christine into. He heard the door shut. A minute passed. He heard her cry out.

His throat tightened.

Erik stormed outside before the walls could close in on him. He paced restlessly on the small porch as wave after wave of unthinkable grief washed over him. His thoughts grew too heavy, and he sat on the cold steps of the porch. His hands clasped behind his head as he struggled to catch his breath.

It was his fault, he knew he was the one to blame for that night. He had acted rashly, thinking he could pry the gun away from Meg. He was a fool, and now he paid the price for his mistakes. So did Christine.

Oh, _Christine_. His hands left his head to twist the fabric on his knees. He had ruined her. He cursed himself for not being faster, for not thinking of a better plan in that moment on the dock.

The door creaked behind him. He ignored the presence that watched him and stared up at the nighttime sky. He did not want to speak. Not then, not when he wanted to throw himself off the very pier his son had lost his life.

"He's going to be alright."

He froze. The very air around him seemed to still. " _What did you say_?" He hissed.

Nadir sat beside him. "He's a very lucky boy. There will be some difficulty walking, for the time being. But I suspect a few weeks of strict bed rest, followed by many months of recovery- he will walk again."

Erik let out a strained sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. His heart threatened to burst from his chest right then and there. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. He was in disbelief, but he wanted to believe what Nadir told him so desperately.

"I've sent Darius to track down the boy's father," Nadir began, his tone steady. His eyes never left Erik as he searched his face with each word. "Hopefully, he can catch him before the-"

"I'm his father," Erik whispered. It sounded ridiculous even to him. Yet the confession spilled from his mouth before he could stop it. He cleared his throat, though it did nothing to dissolve the lump that had formed there. "Gustave is my son, Khan."

He waited for Nadir to berate him, or to maybe even reach out and strike his face. Instead, Erik saw him nod, almost in agreement. He was confused by the odd expression on Nadir's face, and he looked away in shame. Perhaps the man thought he was joking.

"I had suspected," he turned back as Nadir quietly spoke. "I saw the boy as I left your workshop, the day before last. He was with Christine, I recognized her immediately. I did not know who the boy was, but I saw his eyes and nearly made a fool of myself trying to catch another glimpse. I couldn't shake this feeling I had just looked into your own eyes, but not quite. His were…"

"Softer." Erik interrupted. The corner of his mouth lifted into a slight smile. "His eyes are softer than mine." Nadir hummed in agreement.

"Yes, that is what struck me. The more I pictured his face, the more I saw you. Subtle hints, very easy to overlook, but I saw you in his face. I thought it was impossible of course, it was completely out of the question that you-" The look on Erik's face made him trail off. An awkward silence settled between them until he sheepishly carried on. "Well, I convinced myself I exaggerated the entire thing. My mind was playing tricks on me, I was sure of it."

"Until?" Erik pressed. He watched as his companion picked at a loose thread on his sweater. Silently, he waited for Nadir to speak.

"Until tonight." He confessed. "He is _incredibly_ lucky to be alive, Erik. There's only one other person I've ever come across to have such fortune when it comes to grave injuries, and that is _you_." With an exhausted grunt, Nadir stood. "Christine is with him, but I am doubtful he will wake anytime soon. Perhaps that is best."

With that, he went inside, and Erik was alone once more.

The night was quiet, but his mind was not. There were a number of pressing issues to address, but he didn't have the strength to care terribly much about any of them. Years ago, he likely would have torn the city apart searching for wherever Meg had run off to. Even Madame Giry wouldn't have been spared his unshakeable rage, as his eagerness for revenge was once unquenchable.

But that was another time in his life. Now, he was nearing his mid-thirties and a journey for vengeance seemed….reckless. He did not strive to be as reckless as he once was. Not anymore.

He decided the mounting list of things to deal with could wait. He stood and peered up at the dark sky one final time. He quietly made his way inside. A fresh shirt was draped at the end of the banister on the stairs to his right. He guessed Nadir had left it for him, but he did not stop to take it.

He crept through the halls as silent as a ghost until he arrived at the small guest room at the back of the house. The door had been left open, and he leaned against the door frame as he observed.

Christine sat on the edge of the bed, her back toward him. The room was dim, with only a single gas lamp on the stand beside the bed. He could just make out a shape beneath an abundance of wool blankets, but Christine's form masked what he truly longed to see. He craned his neck and shifted to the side. The wooden floor beneath his feet creaked, and he froze.

When she turned her head to look at him, he had the urge to flee. He felt like a thief caught in the act, as the scene before him was so significant he truly had no right to intrude upon it. She delicately rose from the bed, and when she started to make her way towards him he assumed it was to shut the door in his face.

He stepped back and mumbled an apology. He began to turn in retreat, but her hand grasped his sleeve. He wondered if she was going to finally scream at him for the damage he had done. He braced himself for it, as he truly deserved all the anger she could spew at him.

Her hand moved from his sleeve to his wrist, and she pulled him forward. He was not a weak man, but he would always be powerless when it came to Christine. Despite the frantic voices inside his head, he let her guide him into the room. He stood there dumbfounded as she shut the door.

They stood face to face as the dreadful feeling inside his chest began to constrict him. Although moments ago he was desperate to catch a glimpse of Gustave, in that moment the fear of what he would see was enough to scare him off. He bowed his head as he was still certain she was going to unleash a monumental verbal assault upon him at any moment.

Instead, he felt her soft hand linger against his uncovered cheek. Perhaps she would truly strike him. He flinched away, but once more braced himself for whatever blow she had for him.

"Erik," she whispered, her hand falling back to her side. "He asked for you, before he fell asleep." He tilted his chin up, briefly meeting her green eyes only to immediately look away. His mind raced as he tried to conjure up a reason the boy would ask for _him_. "The doctor…Nadir? He said the serum would make Gustave drowsy. He will sleep a lot, at least for the first few days."

"But he will be alright?" Erik asked, the question issuing forth before he could restrain himself. She nodded, her eyes shining with fresh tears. He felt his own eyes begin to water, and he tried to steady his tone before he spoke. "May I…?" The tremble in his voice was obvious, and he averted his gaze.

Christine, his wonderful Christine, did not need him to explain his request any further. Her hand returned to his wrist, and she brought him to the boy's bedside. He didn't have a chance to truly look Gustave over, as Christine sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot beside her.

"Sit."

He obeyed immediately, and settled beside her.

It bothered him how gaunt the boy's face was. It reminded him too much of his own skeletal face. The thick bed sheet was pulled up to his chin, and his dark, unruly hair was swept to the side. His thin arms rested above the cover on either side of his torso. He watched as Christine tenderly reached out to hold one of his small hands.

"He is so much like you," she whispered. He heard her sniffle, but she smiled as she turned to glance back at him. He wasn't sure if he should apologize or feel a sense of pride. He decided to scoot closer and take hold of her free hand. She did not push him away, and her fingers entwined with his.

He treasured the feeling of her hand in his. It was by far the most comforting sensation he had ever experienced, and he found himself feeling a little stronger as he listened to his son wheeze with each breath.

They did not exchange any more words that night. Not even when Christine began to hopelessly fight to keep her eyes open. When he noticed her losing battle, he warily placed a hand on her back. He motioned to the other side of the bed, as it was large enough to easily accommodate Gustave and her small form. He stood with her, and settled himself into a dusty armchair in the corner as she nestled in beside Gustave.

She was asleep in a moment. Erik rested his cheek against his hand as he leaned against the side of the chair. From his place across the room, he watched over the two most cherished people he had nearly lost.

* * *

 _ **A/N**_ : _Good hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! It means a whole lot to me. If you enjoyed this story, or want to see more, please let me know! If there is some interest in this fic, I may expand it to a longer series. If you did not like this story, I totally understand. Please leave me some feedback on what I can improve on in the future. And thank you to all the wonderful people behind the scenes who helped me with this fic, you guys are the very best!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N**_ _: Whoa, long time no see. I saw Love Never Dies a few weeks back and fell in love with it again, and I wanted to continue this story anyway soooo…here I am. Anyway, I know the first chapter was written in Erik's POV but as I started writing this story again I got the feeling it wasn't just his story to tell, if that makes sense? So yeah, starting from here on out both Erik and Christine will have their own POV sections. I want to apologize in advance if anything in this chapter makes you super angry, hah. I promise there's a reason for everything, just stick with me!_

* * *

She woke with a start. Her hand shot out across the bed, and her fingers pressed against the warm skin of Gustave's arm. Christine sighed, cursing her nightmare, and pulled her hand back under the cover. She brought the sheet to her chin and watched her son's pale face as he slept.

The room was completely still in the early light. She propped up onto her elbow, her head turning to the empty armchair in the corner of the room. Her stomach dropped. She glanced down at Gustave, worrying her lip in thought. She hated to leave him for even a moment, not after what happened on the docks.

Christine had felt every strain of grief that one could, but none of them compared to nearly losing her son. Even with him safe beside her, her mind was restless with thoughts of what _could_ have been. What little sleep she got was more exhausting than refreshing, as she spent the entire night stuck in an endless cycle of nightmares.

She noticed a small lump on the edge of the bed. Gently, she inched forward, careful not to disturb Gustave. He had thankfully slept through the night, but she suspected it was from the numerous serums Nadir had injected him with. She shivered at the thought, she _loathed_ needles.

A fresh change of clothes waited in a neat stack at the end of the bed. She nearly threw herself at them, but forced herself to delicately climb out of bed first. She looked to Gustave as her feet met the floor, sighing when he didn't stir. Faintly, she remembered seeing a washroom somewhere in the hall.

The idea of leaving Gustave alone sent a rush a guilt through her system. What kind of mother was she, to leave her son so soon after what happened? It hadn't even been a full day, and already she was being careless. She nearly cried at the thought.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and she whipped around just as Nadir pushed it open. He smiled at her, bowing his head politely.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," he said quietly. She shook her head adamantly, and waved for him to come in. "I assume he slept through the night?"

Christine nodded, stepping aside as Nadir came to stand by Gustave. "Yes, all night. That's a first," she added with a small smile.

"Oh?" Nadir raised his eyebrows, turning away to place a hand on Gustave's forehead. "Is the boy a night owl?" He asked casually, removing his hand to dig through his pocket.

She nodded. Years ago, she would have never caught on to his suspicion, but she was no longer naïve enough to miss the guarded tone of his voice and knowing look in his eye. She shifted from foot to foot, turning her head away as Nadir loaded a small vial with a syringe.

"I was told you had a fondness for breakfast pastries," Nadir said cheerfully. Her cheeks went red, and she could only nod sheepishly. "There is an excellent bakery just around the block, I stopped by first thing this morning. With that said, it'd be a shame if I had to eat all those delightful sweets by myself. Why don't I sit with the boy while you eat? It's the least I could do."

She could have hugged him. Instead she flashed him one of her full smiles, and nodded.

"Thank you, you are too kind. I don't know how I can repay-"

He held up his hand. "Ah, none of that. You are my guest, and one with unfortunate circumstances. It's no trouble at all, I am happy to help."

"Thank you," she couldn't help but say again, and threw her arms around him. He returned her embrace without question, and then ushered her out the door.

* * *

The sun was almost high enough for him to return indoors, but he let himself linger on the shadowy fire escape a bit longer. His elbows rested against the cold metal of the railing while his hands absently worked at a series of knots along a thin piece of rope.

He still carried the familiar length of rope, despite not using it for nearly a decade. It served a new purpose, a less deadly and malicious role in his life. Often when he found his thoughts trailing into darker places, he'd busy his hands by tying and then untying various knots. It was an odd comfort, a way to ground himself when the walls around him seemed to close in.

Erik glanced to the side as someone walked down the street. He frowned, knowing his time was up, and pushed off the rail to retreat through the window. He let himself stare one final time at the sunrise before slamming the window shut.

"What were you doing?"

Her voice made him jump. He spun around, his eyes wide. Christine raised her brows in amusement, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. He noticed she had changed into the simple blue dress he had left for her, her hair pinned up out of her face. He quite liked how beautiful she looked even in her plain state. He realized he was staring like a complete fool, and quickly averted his eyes.

Christine crossed her arms, waiting for him to speak. It was only then he remembered she had asked him a question, and he felt the tips of his ears go red.

"I was watching the sunrise," he said in a rush. Silently, he vowed to draw up designs for a mask that covered his blasted ears. He readjusted his collar and discretely brushed some of his dark hair down to cover his ears. "What are you doing?" "Looking for you," she replied honestly.

He could only stare at her once more. He racked his brain for something semi-intelligible to say, but he narrowed his eyes as a door suddenly slammed somewhere below. He stepped forward, listening to the muffled shouts that came from beneath them. There was something familiar about the voice, and he sighed.

Without a word, Erik went to the door of the study. Christine seemed to have come to the same conclusion as him, and she followed him with wide, petrified eyes. There was no mistaking the voice as they moved down the short hallway, and he paused as Christine darted around him to run down the stairs.

" _Where is he! By God, I'll kill him I swear_!"

 _That's my cue_ , he thought bitterly. Erik crept down the stairs without a sound, following the shouts until he came to stand at the threshold of the sitting room. The three occupants by the mantle took no notice of him. He felt that familiar sensation of existing as nothing but a silent observer, and he forced the distant voice of the _Phantom_ away before it grew out of his control.

"Raoul, _please_ ," Christine cried, tugging at the sleeve of his arm.

"Who do you think you are," Raoul spat as he rounded on Nadir, pointing a finger in his face. "You're a doctor then? I don't believe it. _I'd bet_ -"

"What you do or don't believe is of very little importance to me," Nadir said evenly. "But I must ask you, once again, to calm yourself. I'm sure Darius explained what he could on the way, but your son needs-"

"I know what is best for my son, _sir_." Raoul caught Christine's wrist and ripped it away from his sleeve. "We are leaving this instant, before someone else almost gets killed."

Erik clenched his fists at his side as Christine began to try and pull away. He stepped further into the room and cleared his throat.

"You asked for me," he said lowly. Raoul stumbled at his voice, his grip on Christine faltering. "Here I am. What is it that you need?"

" _You_!" Raoul charged at him with a murderous glare. " _I should kill you_ -!" Christine cried out and grabbed to the back of Raoul's shirt, digging her heels into the ground as she tried to keep him in place. "One night, one bloody night with you and he's shot! Where the devil were you! How could you let this happen?"

Erik felt his jaw clench, a fiery streak of anger and guilt igniting inside him. The sharp voice of the _Phantom_ growled to life once more, bombarding his thoughts with wicked demands. His heart skipped a beat as Raoul closed in. He did nothing as Raoul swung his fist out, waiting for that initial blow before he could justify letting that buried, instinctual piece of him snap.

Raoul's fist connected with his bare cheek, and Erik struck out to bring them both to the ground. It was a daze of fists and shouts, though no one's voice stood out quite like Christine's. He heard her scream as they tumbled over each other, both landing enough hits to leave the other bleeding. He managed to smash his elbow against Raoul's nose, and the dull crack made him certain it was broken. Raoul yelped, and shoved him back.

His head met the corner of the mantle with a sick thud that made his teeth rattle. The world spun, leaving him dazed. He saw double, a black streak flying towards him. He ducked to the right just as Raoul viciously brought down a fire poker where his head had been.

It would have been a gruesome blow, and it spurred on the dark voice in his head. He leapt forward to grip Raoul's neck just as Nadir came to separate them. He saw the blur of Raoul's swing too late, and the fire poker came down against his hand with an awful crack.

There was a blinding light. For a moment there he knew nothing but a white and a faint ringing in his ear. His gut twisted in fear, as he knew that sort of shock only came when something terrible happened.

And terrible it was. The pain erupted through his hand and shot up his arm, an agonizing throb that made his stomach churn. It felt as if someone had taken a meat cleaver to the skin between his middle and pointer finger, and for a moment he feared there would be nothing waiting for him beyond his wrist. The pain grew more and more excruciating by the second, but his sight began to clear. Nothing before him made sense, not in his nauseous and dazed state, but he immediately forced himself to look down at the bloody mess he cradled to his chest.

His vision went in and out of focus with each beat of his heart. He held what was supposed to be his hand in front of his face, but his sluggish mind didn't recognize it. The middle and pointer finger were bent in opposite directions, and he morbidly thought of a dancer in the midst of splits. The skin that was meant to rest between the two fingers was torn past the ridges of his knuckles.

What struck him as odd was the coat of red paint that dripped from his hand. He let out a confused huff, as he couldn't remember coming across any paint.

There was a sharp prick on the skin of his neck. Slowly, Erik turned his head to the side. It was only while he moved he noticed for the first time that Christine held his face. He blinked, shaking his head, and mindlessly dropped his hand to the other side. He didn't want to stain her clothes, the dark red of the paint would never come out.

A figure came into focus behind her. He stared until he made out the face of Nadir peering down at him. He held something with a sharp tip in his hand, but it was too blurry to make out. It didn't seem to matter. Erik let his eyes open and close as he gently swayed in and out of it.

The searing agony in his hand was fading, in fact, everything around him was. He felt content as the world slipped away, even as his mind screamed at him to stay awake.

* * *

Christine held her head in her hands as the tears threatened to spill over once more. It had been an hour, maybe two, since Darius and Nadir rushed Erik upstairs. Darius had only emerged once, and that was to immediately escort Raoul away. She wasn't sure where they went, but Darius returned sometime later only to run back upstairs.

The memory of Erik's gruesome hand almost made her ill, and she covered her mouth to stifle a groan.

"Mother?"

She gasped, her hands falling back to her lap. Gustave squinted up at her from the bed. She began to cry, but she smiled as she scooted forward in her chair. She reached out to hold his hand, and the other went to brush back the hair on his face.

"Oh, darling- I'm so happy you're awake." She leaned forward to kiss his forehead, lingering there for just a second. He winced, and she sat back with a frown. "How do you feel, love?"

He tried to shake his head only to whimper. His pain was agonizing to her, making her heart twist.

"Not good," he murmured. "I had a bad dream."

"What sort of dream?" She pressed.

The tip of his tongue came out as he bit it in thought. The familiar quirk made her smile, and she quickly wiped away a few of her lingering tears.

"I don't remember, it's like a memory. But Father was in it, and Mister Y too. I think they were angry, I heard yelling. And then…."

Christine squeezed his hand as his lip began to tremble. "What's the matter dear? You can tell me, it's alright."

"Mother," Gustave whimpered. "I think Mister Y is in trouble, I heard him yell. But it wasn't an angry yell, it was a _hurt_ yell. I know it was a dream, but it felt so real!"

She hushed him as he fell into quiet sobs, trying to contain her own. Christine ran her hand through his hair until his eyes grew heavy once more, and she squeezed his hand.

"Get some rest darling, I promise you'll feel better soon."

Gustave nodded, wincing again. She listened to his breathing as it began to even out, until his eyes suddenly cracked open.

"Mother, will you check on Mister Y?"

All she could do was nod. She was relieved when he finally slept, but a part of her wished he would stir again as she no longer had a distraction from the pressing thoughts in her head.

She frowned, feeling rather selfish, and gently let go of Gustave's hand. She looked to the ceiling as footsteps continuously walked across. She waited a few minutes more before leaving her chair and creeping out of the room.

Christine shut the door with a quiet thump. She pressed her ear against the wood to listen for any sign of Gustave. Satisfied he wouldn't wake at any moment, she pressed off the door and went to the stairs at the end of the hall. Right as she stepped on the first stair, Nadir appeared at the top.

"Oh, I was just about to come get you." He smiled, but it lacked its usual warmth.

Nadir beckoned for her to follow, and she climbed the stairs to trail behind him as he led her to the sole door on their right. Darius stepped out from within, nodding to her as he passed.

"He's going to sit with Gustave for a bit, if that's alright."

She nodded, grateful once again for the kindness of Nadir. He held the door open for her and cocked his head to the side. Christine mumbled a quick thank you as she crossed into a small guest room.

The curtains were drawn tight, with only a single gas lamp on the edge of the nightstand dully illuminating the room. Pushed against the opposite wall was a small bed, and her eyes found Erik there in the center.

"Between us, I gave him enough morphine to bring down a horse," Nadir whispered behind her. She gave him a concerned frown, and the corner of his mouth pulled into a quick smile. "Don't worry, he's more than capable of handling it, and it's better than the alternative."

"What's the alternative?" She asked.

"Listening to him complain for hours on end."

She barely stifled her laugh. Nadir winked, stepping further into the room as he went to collect various scraps of bandages and discarded rags.

"Gustave was awake, for a little at least."

Nadir paused, turning his head to her. "Is that so? Well, that is very good news." He grabbed a stained basin from the nightstand, and she looked away from the sickening red water within. "I've been meaning to check on him, time seemed to slip away before I knew it." He gestured to Erik's sleeping form. "Would you mind waiting with him, I'll be back in a moment."

Christine nodded, but her nerves began to prickle with uneasiness. She watched silently as Nadir made to the door, and he gave her a reassuring smile as he stepped out. The door shut behind him, and she was alone.

Well, not _entirely_ alone.

For the first time since entering the room, Christine let her eyes linger on Erik. She wondered if he always slept on his side, his back arched, and knees close to his chest. The twisted half of his face was pressed against the pillow, as his mask was gone, while his right hand rested beneath. His other hand was wrapped several layers thick, the white material extending down past his wrist. She spotted a handful of fresh bruises on his face, one of them swollen enough to nearly seal his eye shut.

What struck her the most was the slight frown of his mouth as he slept. She wondered if he always frowned in his sleep as well.

She worried her lip as the anxiousness in her chest she had fought to suppress began to break through. She was clueless as to how she was meant to face the terrible shadow of the past twenty-four hours. It was during these moments, when she felt completely helpless, she feared what sort of mother she was.

Her memory of her own Mother was faint, so distant they could have easily been nothing but dreams. Madame Giry had been the closest thing to a mother in her life, and she felt ashamed at her childish tears when Madame Giry had never once cried in front of her or Meg.

 _Meg_.

She pushed the name from her mind as soon as it arrived. She wasn't ready to think about her, not yet. That thought would have to wait in the far corner of her mind where she had also pushed Raoul.

She knew at some point she would have to face everything that had happened since the dock, but she simply wasn't ready.

Erik shifted in his sleep. Christine quickly kneeled by the bed as his eyes opened. There was a grogginess to his movements, and he blinked at her in confusion.

"Hello," she whispered.

He merely grunted, his eyes closing again. She almost laughed, reaching out to brush back some of his hair. It didn't surprise her how similar it was to Gustave's, a dark tangle of unruly waves. He flinched under her hand, and she pulled away.

"How are you feeling?"

"Dead," he muttered, his eyes still shut.

"Well," she brought her elbow to the side of the bed and rested her cheek against her hand, "you _aren't_ dead."

He almost looked disappointed at the news, but she resisted the urge to swat his arm. It didn't stop her from rolling her eyes, and she sighed. He was already asleep once more, the small frown in his lips returning.

There was the creak of footsteps down the hall, and she knew Nadir would return at any moment. She glanced at the door before quickly leaning forward and pressing her lips to Erik's cheek. He sighed.

"Everything will be alright," she promised him, but mostly herself.

* * *

 _ **A/N**_ _: I'll be honest- I was really worried about posting a second chapter to this story and kick starting its continuation. This is personally one of my favorite stories, so I'm super worried people will hate it, hah. Also, I know a lot happened in this chapter and the prior, and I hope the characters don't come off as glossing over the emotional trauma / weight? I think when we are put under such extreme stress, we have to try and deal with it bit by bit so that it doesn't break us. That was my thought process at least, and I hope it came through alright. Thank you so much for reading! I promise there will be more facing of emotions head on in the future!_


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